SCANDAL, FORESIGHT, MRS. FORESIGHT, MRS. FRAIL.
FORE. Ah, Sir Sampson, heav’n help your head. This is none of your
lucky hour; _Nemo omnibus horis sapit_. What, is he gone, and in
contempt of science? Ill stars and unconvertible ignorance attend him.
SCAN. You must excuse his passion, Mr. Foresight, for he has been
heartily vexed. His son is _non compos mentis_, and thereby incapable of
making any conveyance in law; so that all his measures are disappointed.
FORE. Ha! say you so?
MRS. FRAIL. What, has my sea-lover lost his anchor of hope, then?
[_Aside to_ MRS. FORESIGHT.]
MRS. FORE. O sister, what will you do with him?
MRS. FRAIL. Do with him? Send him to sea again in the next foul
weather. He’s used to an inconstant element, and won’t be surprised to
see the tide turned.
FORE. Wherein was I mistaken, not to foresee this? [_Considers_.]
SCAN. Madam, you and I can tell him something else that he did not
foresee, and more particularly relating to his own fortune. [_Aside to_
MRS. FORESIGHT.]
MRS. FORE. What do you mean? I don’t understand you.
SCAN. Hush, softly,—the pleasures of last night, my dear, too
considerable to be forgot so soon.
MRS. FORE. Last night! And what would your impudence infer from last
night? Last night was like the night before, I think.
SCAN. ’Sdeath, do you make no difference between me and your husband?
MRS. FORE. Not much,—he’s superstitious, and you are mad, in my opinion.
SCAN. You make me mad. You are not serious. Pray recollect yourself.
MRS. FORE. Oh yes, now I remember, you were very impertinent and
impudent,—and would have come to bed to me.
SCAN. And did not?
MRS. FORE. Did not! With that face can you ask the question?
SCAN. This I have heard of before, but never believed. I have been
told, she had that admirable quality of forgetting to a man’s face in the
morning that she had lain with him all night, and denying that she had
done favours with more impudence than she could grant ’em. Madam, I’m
your humble servant, and honour you.—You look pretty well, Mr. Foresight:
how did you rest last night?
FORE. Truly, Mr. Scandal, I was so taken up with broken dreams and
distracted visions that I remember little.
SCAN. ’Twas a very forgetting night. But would you not talk with
Valentine? Perhaps you may understand him; I’m apt to believe there is
something mysterious in his discourses, and sometimes rather think him
inspired than mad.
FORE. You speak with singular good judgment, Mr. Scandal, truly. I am
inclining to your Turkish opinion in this matter, and do reverence a man
whom the vulgar think mad. Let us go to him.
MRS. FRAIL. Sister, do you stay with them; I’ll find out my lover, and
give him his discharge, and come to you. O’ my conscience, here he
comes.